twilightasterism

[twilightasterism]

a road seems bleak with no respite in sight of course there is calamity I have known it all my life yet hope, it's lingering, desperate presence fights the despairing heart forms a blessing out of blood and pulls my weak hands and forces me to walk I comply, numb, used to it, this time I see a light.

the light of a better tomorrow

[twilightasterism]

chilled air, my enemy, attacking my soul with it's blade. do you curse me to this torturous life until my bones erode and mind decays? with the passing days I plead for strength a will to go on a dream that negates the nightmare an end to the cycle the 222. but my head is heavy and my heart hurts my soul throws a tantrum and bangs my legs and screams- -screams but I give it not a voice. I wish I could give it's desire for destruction an ear. I must rest here for a moment, to prevent further damage I must force myself to be The Hermit when I woudl rather be The Sun, and fix that Tower that keeps on crumbling only stagnant can I retain logic so, I must rest here for a while wait for me if you wish but I will not rush for you. remember you patience as virtuous only then can you be forgiven.

I must rest here for a moment

[twilightasterism]

in silken dreams, I taste a sweetness unbefitting of this unworthy tongue yet too addicting to resist, a surrender the lingering taste is alluring and though I am unworthy, I am thankful I wish to be filled with the sweet forever it's presence a reminder of pleasure sustainability cloud nine and even a love thought unattainable in a world that craves the bitter and tastes unenjoyable I walk the path less traveled ignored and obsolete living, as required of me. such a beauty it is to follow mine own heart resisting the mud the stone the ill I would defend this beauty eternally. it is not easy, nor will it ever be there are thorns, sticks, stones words of discomfort, words you damn to the cruelest of places it is not easy, there is beauty in that it's difficulty makes it worth but why can't it be easy just once? is the chance of it being easy so criminal it makes it unworthy? still it is a fight to be won a sweet to be earned, a rose that grows signaling victory. at least celebrating the outcome is easy.

rosewater

[twilightasterism]

when I walked on barren soil, I was lost, crying and begging for the map that would lead me home. it is cold and dreary, and there is nothing in sight. how I wished I'd followed the light. I found a lake and it's waters did not reflect my face, rather, it reflected the clouds that were hues of blue and purple these clouds, only visible in the water, did invite me in, and so I stepped into the little lake, and found myself sitting on a cloud, and the land below me was not of land, but of water. in this upside down world, I can find home.

cloud 9

[twilightasterism]

to seek an unfortunate end is not courageous yet the bitter truth just brings anger, corruption-- a damning punishment. we seek something akin to happiness, hope the "light at the end of the tunnel" or "peace" and "prosperity"; "healing", even but we fumble through these thinning threads made of plastic and other garbage made manifest to sour our views and make our noses wrinkle in disgust it's like taking a needle and digging through concrete when all you can do is scratch the surface I'd take my fists and bang the stone instead, but the misinformed would cry "crazy!" and then I'd live in a world of white, padded walls observed, humanity no longer my status. but it is inhumane to cry inhumane, at a soul trying to learn how to be a soul again. we seek the simple pleasures of life to corrode our hatred of hatred, to find a purpose in finding a purpose so that one day when we die as life intended, we do not linger-- regret. and the person who finds our presence does not wail or try to monetize our pain through some cheezy show with cheap effects bastardizing the steps we took to end the cycles of torture. then we'll find something- anything to prove the flowers we hold are not poisonous, the sky real the stars on our side and not theirs and our happiness not randomly generated by some mathmetician who likes to see the tortured even more tortured.

piece from a person who wishes to return themself to soil

[twilightasterism]

I met a woman, wiser than wise, who's soul was made after the many lives she lived. she has seen many deaths, some unjustifiable, some a release, and some by her own hand. she is a reminder of what we face in the end, and how we will live again. she is death but she is not death, life, but not life. she has seen all of Earth through her lives, and all of the galaxies through her eternal soul. she cannot rest, not yet, not when there is so much more to learn, not when there is so much more to teach. though her life starts again, though she knows she will face pain yet again, she handles the flowers of all names, dances with the sun by day, dances with the moon by night, and experiences Earth again. so I met this woman, wiser than wise, and I was saved by the fact that she exists.

flora

[twilightasterism]

be frightened, but do not waver. cry, but do not be deterred, for every hardship, a pale light grows, a flower frees itself from soil. and still with bare feet, you press on. on this road you have travelled, but must travel again there are things that go bump in the night and make the trees a horror story yet, you have travelled here before. you know it's tricks. the cycle continues it is infinity a soul has changed it dies and it is reborn it dies again it is reborn again. they laugh and they play they grow they cry and they wail you hug them they are better again they help you on your journey you laugh and you play you grow you cry and you wail they hug you you are better again new paths to your journey have opened. the souls converge into one they are the light they are you your path is right it is just. you have prevailed. you have found peace. you live.

the way I must prevail

[twilightasterism]

you loom above me with scary tools and scarred hands, and you play with my hair and cut, cut, cut into a new shape. next you undress me and I try to bashfully turn away, dear dollmaker, why do you do this? then you place a dress on me, the same dress, and begin to fiddle with my unnatural joints. you clean my arms and twist them right again, but I am sore. dear dollmaker, why do you do this? treasure box you take and dress my ears and neck in jewels, and I look elegant and godly. dear dollmaker, you have placed me in the glass box. to whom will take me home?

the dollmaker

[twilightasterism]

my pleas are heard by the winds and they cry for me those precious tears should not be shed I am now burdened by guilt. the sorrows for years, the scars that live on my skin, let it be no more, let it be no more. the winds send their message, feathers that tickle, feathers that comfort. soon, I will be okay.

the feather

[twilightasterism]

what are the shadows that follow me, except tormentors on a journey that leads nowhere? they morph and attempt malevolence, cursing with all their might, words that do not register in the mind. angered, the onslaught continues, but I am unafraid. this is not something unable to prevail over. the shadows know they have no power. morph, morph into nothing, disappear in the light you tried to steal.

I do not perceive

[twilightasterism]

a room is messy but it is home time is slow yet it still moves a body is shaken but not stirred between chaos, it's threads, and it's rule, there are strands of order unbreakable. in this moment and in this hour, as one craves the destruction of another, someone else is saving another for the price of none and the gentle rain washes away the cruelty.

a gentle rain

[twilightasterism]

broken starlight amidst the clouds my soul is caught in the crossfire as it tries to heal, a futile effort for now take the broken stars and mend them back together fingers bloody, splinters galore they will twinkle again, an effort not in vain. as you watch me prove this world's innocence, the evils begin to be made manifest crying, do you not see? the clouds drip red and I, a soul beaten, turned to dust forced to believe all can perceive a truth so obvious the liars are riddled with fear must endure the performace until the bitter end then I may turn dust back to stone. still you watch with them eyes unblinking, mouth unmoving empathy but a fleeting concept in your heart and I ignore, endure. for a soul that endures is dawn itself that shakes the red leads itself towards a peaceful light, living forevermore, with the mending we have done. the stars have chipped, not their original shape but they live, no longer broken they are the picture of a soul a song short but complete a flower the sun finds again and that which the dawn reflects, protects all too soon you'll realize who this soul is.

painter of the dawn

[twilightasterism]

carry sweet tears on a boat that waters needy flowers; they thank me for their sacrifice. sorrow looms forevermore, a warning of future peril existing to taunt me. the flowers wrap themselves around me like vines, and fueled by my tears, they do infact become my armor against that which is life, unmerciful. against that which is loneliness, masquerading as solitude. look to the flowers, see every petal, revere their vibrancy, it was my tears that made them this way, there is beauty in that.

in the name of sweet mercy and solitude

[twilightasterism]

if I am found, return me to the soil where sunflowers grow take me to moonrock where Venus is my background bind rose quartz to my soul, where it shall always remind me when I am loved. decorate and braid my hair with lavender and rosemary, dress me in chamomile and cinnamon above all else, keep me safe in the light no matter how dim. let this light be like a bubble, encompassing me and protecting me. angel wings rain on down, make a bed for me. clouds be thick and warm, like a blanket that lulls me to sleep in my dreams, I see paradise

if I am found

[twilightasterism]

you wept at my feet with a tattered dress, and all life left from your skin as it turned a dull color. who would do such a thing to you? who would ruin your love? before I knew it, you closed your eyes as there were no tears left in your soul. I looked to the moon, and asked if I may borrow the stars that surround her. all too soon, stars surrounded me, and I took those stars and weaved a dress out of it, and helped you put it on, so that you may understand, that even the moon wishes for you to love life again.

to love life again

[twilightasterism]

allow me to place a bouquet in your worthy hands and relish in your beautiful smile of gratitude with your happiness as my anchor. let your heart lull me to sleep and in my dreams you dance with me, teaching me the steps of love. may you wrap your arms around my frail form, and breathe life into my bones, so that I may walk with you. may we be together like cloud to sky, and root to Earth.

zeal

[twilightasterism]

when I told you I loved you, I was handed a tattered paper from your delicate hand and told to perform this trial to prove my love for you. you told me I must find three treasures from the sea and give them to you in mint condition. I smiled and shook my head in disagreement, and this confused you. instead I cleaned the sea of the world, and made it's waters clear, so that you may choose any treasure you desire.

the trial of love